3 Things You Can Learn By Road-Tripping with a Guy

On Saturday morning, Justin picked me up at my place for a little day trip and picnic!

I had packed salad, prosciutto and mozzarella sandwiches, and homemade M&M cookies. Justin was waiting at the curb, looking sharp in his aviators and khakis. Oh, and did I mention he has super thick hair and dimples? Uh-huh.

We were going to drive a few hours away to a bunch of wineries in North Fork, on the northeast end of Long Island. Romantic! Plus, I was so psyched to be able to get out of the city, and to do it without using mass transportation.

Okay, this is a vineyard in Tuscany, but Tuscany Long Island close enough!

It was kind of a movie moment, peeling out in his Porsche with the windows down, the sunroof open, and the music blasting. I was happy that he wasn't too shy (or too cool) to sing—I always wanted a guy who would sing with me—and I was really glad we were musically compatible. (Have you ever taken a road trip with a guy who raps endlessly to extremely loud, unfamiliar music? You can’t participate, and it’s just annoying.)

Of course, a half hour into it, I had to go to the bathroom. I did not want to be that girl, but I couldn’t help it. I was too excited. Justin didn’t complain, he just patiently pulled off the freeway and found me a nice hotel bathroom. Later, he pulled over again for a second pit stop. Phew. I used to date a guy who would blame me for slowing him down, like my bladder was some sort of handicap.

Justin and I went to three wineries and stopped at a seaside town for ice cream. It was a really awesome sixth date, and the day trip was a good little acid test, which he aced: He let me make unlimited pit stops; he sang with me; we could stand each other for hours on end—even in traffic and oppressive heat—and we were fine with not talking and having a lot of quiet “head time.”

Another road trip test might be, is he concerned for your safety? Justin was. I was more concerned for the car! I mean, NYC taxi drivers are crazy, but Justin said that unlike me, “The car is replaceable.” Swoon.